


Of Darkened Eves

by Anonymous



Series: My Immortal [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM, M/M, Sexual Content, Thranduil whispering elvish between the sheets, Wax Play, i mean seriously who would NOT submit to Thranduil?, yes yes .. gimme that bowman on his knees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2797367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the night before Erebor would fall, so Thranduil has told him, determination and hatred was audible in his voice: “At dawn we will attack and end this madness of Oakenshield”<br/>~<br/>But before Erebor would be attacked by the Elvenking's army, Bard was summoned to the King's tent and something he has not expected - not even dreamt of - happens in the cold winter night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, they are J.J.R Tolkien's and PJ's - I just love to borrow them from time to time .. no money made from this fic.
> 
> The content in this fanfiction is a combination of both book and movie verse, but especially my Thranduil (and his motives for aiding the Laketown refugees) is definitely more book-based as I strongly disagree with the portrayal in regard to his greed and motives ('long will I tarry, ere I begin this war for gold' is my favorite quote and it says a lot I think).
> 
> It is the first time EVER that i've written this pairing .. so comments here or on tumblr would be just so lovely :)

**Of Darkened Eves** **– Chapter 1**

~~

The day had been eventful and Bard was about to retire for the night, finally safely back in his tent which was set up in the ruins of the ancient city of Dale. Exhaustion and fatigue spread through his body and mind. The certain hope for an early retirement made him smile as he sank onto the chair, stretching his aching muscles with a hearty yawn.

It had been a tiresome day with all the political discussions he had held and the prospect of war frightened him to the core.

Haven’t his people suffered enough after the desolation of Smaug already? Haven’t they lost everything? Their homes, the little wealth they had back in Laketown - and not few of them even their lives? Those who had survived and sought now refuge in the destroyed city of Dale in hope to find shelter from the harsh and early winter? The folk he cared of and who suffered now from hunger and arising sickness?

Their situation has become worse with every passing day – the chill nights took their tribute from the refugees that were beyond exhausted and lacked warm clothes to fight the harsh cold of the winter, to fight the dreadful memories of Smaug’s attack.

Smaug’s horror had been searing flames, the aftermath was the icy howl of winter.

His own family was spared from death, but he knew numerous Laketowners that have not survived the attack of the dragon, their bodies lost to the cold Long Lake, never to be found and buried.

Bard shook his head in a futile attempt to chase away the sickening memories, the dread he had felt when his two daughters were not seen among the living that very night.

His silent musing was interrupted as one of his fellow soldier’s peaked inside the temporary ‘home’ of Bard’s family.

“Bard? There is somebody waiting outside for you..” the man told him, without giving away any information who it was that awaited his presence. Somehow, Bard thought, his companion looked a little more troubled than usual but certainly he could have been mistaken. The light was dim and he was exhausted from the day.

Nevertheless, Bard pondered his thoughts who it could likely be that requested his presence tonight whilst he put the heavy woolen cloak back around his shoulders.

Despite the candles that burnt in his tent he froze; the winter had come extraordinary early that year and the lands were already covered in snow, an icy wind howling outside.

Almost reluctantly, he stepped outside into the chilly air, pushing the curtain of the entrance aside.

“My king requests an audience, Bard of Laketown” the elvish soldier that stood right before his eyes informed him, not a single emotion visible on his face.

“You are expected in half an hour in King Thranduil’s camp located on the opposite of the ruins.” The elf added and bowed before him, turning around instantly before Bard could ask a single question in return.

Apparently, the King of the Woodland Realm assumed that he had no other obligations apart from his night’s rest and Bard frowned inwardly. But indeed he had none - besides the appointment with his bed.

All hopes of an early night were destroyed just as soon as they had come.

“Wicked folk…” Bard mumbled as he watched the elf disappear through the snowfall in a graceful manner rather startled.

Those elves were a fascinating, yet a frightening mystery at the same time. Not much business has he had with the Wood-Elves until the massive host of King Thranduil had arrived some days past in the ruins of the city to reclaim their part of the gold of Erebor.

Just like the Laketowner’s who sought refuge and their fair share of the treasure, a repayment for the destruction of their city, the Wood-Elves demanded their part of Smaug’s hoard - with the slight difference that they still had a home to return to.

Their own city lay devastated in the Long Lake and after all, this stubborn dwarf was the very reason that their home lay in ashes.

Bard did not exactly know what business Thorin and his company had with the elves before their barrel-ride right into his arms – but he suspected it was not an entirely pleasant experience on both sides.

King Thranduil’s dislike of dwarves was fierce and a rather open secret, and if it wouldn’t have been common knowledge already, Bard would have certainly known the Kings opinion after today’s events.

“It is the only thing they understand..” the Elvenking had said after the failed negotiation with Thorin Oakenshield, holding the ornamented, silvery sword in his hand, his eyes glooming with sheer hatred for the dwarf.

There was no doubt that King Thranduil had meant every threat he had uttered this day – his voice determined, his demeanor ice-cold like the snowflakes that melted against Bard’s skin.

But there was an entirely different side to the icy king, Bard knew from personal experience in the past days - if it would not have been for the Elvenking, his people would certainly suffer from starvation by now, perishing one by one as the dwarves refused any aid needed.

The arrival of the elvish army with an abundance of supplies had indeed been a most fortunate blessing for the former inhabitants of Laketown and Bard couldn’t express his gratitude often enough.

However, grateful or not, Bard still had not the slightest idea of what exactly the Elvenking wished to speak with him at such an unruly hour and if he was honest to himself, he had to admit that it troubled him, at least a little.

Despite the kindness Thranduil had shown towards his people, even towards himself, there was something utterly intimidating about the Elvenking.

His tantrums over nothing were – like his distaste for dwarves - no secret either.

Better to approach him with caution, Bard thought as he finally left the camp behind and made his way through the dark streets of Dale. Once the city had burst in splendor and wealth originating from the trade with other realms, now it was a dark and deadly ruin.

 

His breath came in burst in the chilly evening air, leaving mist in his wake as he hurried through the snow-covered streets, snowflakes swirling in front of his eyes.

He was late, he already knew it but there was nothing he could do against it now, only hoping that his late arrival would not awake the Elvenking’s temper.

Bard had neither need nor nerve for it this very night, still contemplating slightly about the disturbance of his rest.

If it were his thoughts or the icy gust of wind that made him shiver, Bard could not determine but it felt as if he heard the words the King had spoken to him early all over again.

It was the night before Erebor will fall, so Thranduil has told him, determination and hatred was audible in his voice: “At dawn we will attack and end this madness of Oakenshield”

The cold made him walk much faster than he had anticipated, and Bard had to admit that the prospect of meeting the Elvenking in a rather private setting made him slightly nervous, no matter how often he told himself that there was no reason to.

Yet, there was something utterly intimidating about Thranduil’s icy demeanor, the fierce hatred he had displayed for the company of Thorin Oakenshield.

But it was not simply the Elvenking’s regal appearance that had his eyes made linger a second too long, Bard had to admit. It was the King’s otherworldly appearance – wise beyond measure, millennia-old.

It was everything, Bard whispered in silence, the way Thranduil spoke – sometimes with his eyes and mind alone. It were those subtle gestures that never failed to leave Bard stunned, the way he commands his army with nothing more than a tilt of his head. The most frightening feature of the Elvenking, however, were his piercing blue eyes.

Involuntary, Bard remembered how the Elvenking had looked at him earlier this day when he had returned from the futile negotiation with Thorin Oakenshield.

It was just for the blink of an eye, yet Bard froze as the stare seemed to look right through him, unveil his mind and thoughts.

He had felt naked, stripped right before him and it made Bard’s stomach twist once more.

It were the subtle commands King Thranduil used for his guards and soldiers. No rise of voice, no shouting was required to make them follow – it was so very different compared to the ways of men.

A lift of his pinky was enough and thousands of elves responded synchronously and in perfect unison. The memory made Bard shiver ever so slightly, realizing once more just how much power the Elvenking held over his people and that he was an enemy to fear.

It was beyond him to comprehend how Thorin Oakenshield could be so utterly stubborn and refuse the Elvenking’s demands, locking himself away behind the cold and stony walls of Erebor with nothing more than a handful of companions.

Has the Dwarf Prince not seen the legions of heavily armed Wood-Elves that King Thranduil has led towards the lonely mountain to claim his share of Smaug’s treasure hoard? Thorin must be beyond blind, sick with greed and foolish arrogance, Bard thought angrily.

With a shudder of disgust, he remembered the details of the ‘conversation’ that he had held with Thorin, the hatred he had seen in his dark eyes, how little the dwarf had cared about the fate of the suffering refugees of Laketown – an ineffable indifference lay upon Thraín’s son.

“It is the only thing they understand…” had been the harsh and threating words of the Elvenking and Bard began to believe it as words have failed him.

Bard simply could not understand how Thorin Oakenshield could actually assume that he would withstand such a force for longer than a day or two.

It was madness, and nothing else.

For brief moments, Bard leaned against a wall made of stone, his eyes directed towards the sky in an attempt to gather his thoughts, to calm the anger that he harbored towards the dwarf after the recent events. Watching the passing of the moon-lit clouds in the darkness, how the snow silently fell down onto his face, did indeed sooth his mind and his breathing calmed down.

In all his musing over Thorin Oakenshield and the day’s events, Bard had almost forgotten that he was late already, and a whispered cursed left his lips as he continued to walk hastily towards the place where the elves had taken refuge from the bitter cold, shielded by the demolished city walls.

 

Without further hesitation, Bard began to wander through the countless rows of tents, scanning his surroundings and the few elves that walked past him rather curiously. The inhabitants of the Woodland Realm with their long, flowing hair and almost feminine features were a strange fascination to him and he couldn’t avert his eyes, watching them almost mesmerized, listening to the alien tongue that he did not understand.

To his surprise, Bard realized that not a single Mirkwood soldier was bothered by his presence as he walked quickly through the elven camp in what felt like the middle of the night.

It did not take long until Bard finally reached the King’s private residence which was located a little outside the main camp, offering a bit more privacy than the rest.

He actually felt a little nervous now, waiting in front of the entrance to King Thranduil’s tent, his eyes directed towards the armed guards that stood right before him.

~~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Candle-light, politics, wine, not-so-secret stares and a blowjob .. Well it's a PWP after all :)

**Of Darkened Eves – Chapter 2**

**~~**

The snowfall has only intensified over the past minutes and despite his heavy woolen coat, Bard shivered as he stood waiting outside the Elvenking’s tent. In the meanwhile, to keep himself occupied, his eyes studied the delicate golden armor of Thranduil’s guards. It seemed as if those beautiful, alien creatures had an extremely weak spot for various shiny things and rich ornaments, he mused in silence as a few words were exchanged between the elves that he couldn’t understand.

Finally, he was bid to enter in the common tongue and almost hesitantly he walked past the guards into the warmth that embraced him instantly as numerous candles and torches were burning in every corner of the room.

“You are late, Bard of Laketown” Thranduil commented nonchalantly no second later than Bard had stepped slowly through the heavy curtain. The Elvenking stood at the other end of the room with his back towards the door, his long pale hair highlighted against the dark silk and velvet that he wore. It was a foolish thought to assume that Thranduil would still wear his armor in such a private setting, Bard realized – but never before has he seen the Elvenking wearing anything else.

Bard gasped audible and remained half-way frozen in the doorway as his eyes wandered from the King’s head over his back, observing the muscles flex beneath the garment. The sweet and earthy aroma elicited from scented candles mingled with dashes of fragrance from an array of dried wild flowers on a nearby table that nearly took his breath away and he entirely forgot to reply to the King’s inquiry.

It was a provisional dwelling, built in the haste of up-coming war, but to Bard’s surprise it did not lack any comfort nor splendor. Bard has never seen Thranduil’s halls from inside but the tales of the splendor and great wealth that was harbored within the stone walls were great and well-known among the men of Laketown – and now he could well believe it. Numerous candles and torches burnt brightly and painted the scenario in a soft orange light, expensive furs were laid across the frozen ground to keep the chill at bay, ornamented wooden chairs aligned around the table.

He was entirely taken aback by the sheer beauty – of everything. This provisional tent offered more comfort than Bard had thought ever possible, splendor that he had not expected to find in the ancient ruins of Dale, the night before Erebor would fall. His own tent was a feeble attempt in comparison.

Painfully slow, Thranduil turned around  to face the entrance to his tent, already holding a silvery goblet filled with red wine in his slender fingers. It was the position where Bard still stood like a life-less marble statue, unable to tear his gaze apart from Mirkwood’s imperious King.

The fact that he could now see the blue eyes sparkling in the dim light, how the soft orange light of the flames danced across the glooming golden skin of the elf did not resolve the matter. It was not sane nor safe to stare in such a manner – Bard knew - but his eyes had a will of their own it appeared.

“I assume you do not have to say anything in your defense as you have remained quiet for the past moments - but welcome, nevertheless, Bard the Dragonslayer” Thranduil commented, apparently unimpressed by Bard’s brazen stare.

The few words that followed obviously dismissed his personal guards as he heard busy rustling behind the fabric of the tent and disappearing footsteps.

 

~~

“Lord Thranduil” Bard finally offered with a small bow towards the imperious Elvenking as he tried to gather his thoughts. “You summoned me? How can I be of aid?”

The last time he had offered his aid in negotiating with Thorin Oakenshield, he had obtained nothing, Bard thought with a bitter note as his mind returned to the gates of Erebor. Thorin’s hate-filled words still rang in his ears and he cursed the stubborn dwarf in silence.

Thranduil took a large sip from his own goblet before he began to speak softly “My own provisions of food and wine are abundant and you yourself have told me that your people are suffering from hunger - and most likely you are no exception from this misery.” It was the first time that he actually saw Mirkwood’s King smile and it nearly took his breath away once more, but he tried not to show any emotion, afraid of the reaction he might earn.

Thranduil however did not seem to notice Bard’s little turmoil over his physical appearance – or he had noticed it indeed but at least had the grace not to comment on it but resumed his monologue.

“And additionally to this, there are some important matters in regard to our dwarvish friends” the Elvenking continued, almost spitting the last words, voicing his distaste for Thorin Oakenshield aloud.

“Which need to be discussed before we attack on the morrow. So why not combine the pleasant things with the not so pleasant ones?” the elf asked rhetorically, not really expecting an answer from the human.

There was this common saying ‘never go to the Elves for council as they say both yes and no’ – and the Elvenking was certainly speaking at least in a sort of riddles.

“Aye…” was all Bard replied, although he was not entirely certain of what Thranduil was speaking of; by now they had enough provisions, at least for the next weeks thanks to the generous Wood-Elves.

It did not made any sense, but Bard bit his tongue before the thoughts slipped over his lips.

There was something in the Elvenking’s voice that startled him, an almost mischievous tone and the man was not certain that he liked it. But before Bard could spin his thoughts any further, a silvery goblet ornamented with sparkling gems and filled with Dorwinion was placed into his hands.

The goblet was possibly worth more than a life’s loan he would have earned in Laketown, Bard thought as he drank hesitantly from the glass, tasting the sweet and potent wine. The wealth of the Wood-Elves seemed sheer incredible, he realized and it was possibly not for the gold of Erebor alone that they have come to the Lonely Mountain.

“Long have I tarried, ere I was willing to begin this war for gold” the Elvenking began, as if he had read Bard’s exact thoughts. “And if I am honest, I had hoped for a different solution, but this impertinent dwarf does not give me another option” he confessed with a sigh. “In truth, my people cannot bear anymore losses, the spiders in Mirkwood have costs numerous lives in the past and our numbers are diminishing. I do not want this war, I never have”

In truth the loss of immortal lives has started long years before Ungoliants spawn has crept into the beautiful woods of his the Woodland Realm, unnumbered souls were lost in the last Great War. The dreadful Battle of the Last Alliance against the dark shadows of Mordor has cost countless lives among elves and men. It was the battle when his father was slain with brute force.

Thranduil never forgot, and he never forgave – but now he remained quiet on this matter, fearing that the dreadful memories would return.

It was not what Bard had expected the Elvenking to say nor was he prepared for the emotions that hushed over Thranduil’s face. The blue eyes seemed entirely lost all of a sudden, it was as if the King was staring right through him, as if his mind was somewhere far away.

Bard felt a deep compassion for those millennia old immortal folk, it was not only his people that had suffered in the past years, he realized now and felt a little ashamed that he had not thought about any of it before.

His gaze switched quickly away from the elf in embarrassment, looking over the map of the Erebor’s surroundings that lay on the table before him and then directly back again to Thranduil’s face. The entire time Bard was not saying a single word as if a spell of silence sealed his lips.

Something he should say at least, Bard knew, yet he simply couldn’t – no word would come.

Instead, Bard noticed how the warm light of the flickering candles seemed to flow over the elf’s face, ripple across his glowing skin, how the flames were reflected in the blue eyes.

“Is something amiss, Bard of Laketown?” Thranduil inquired, his eyebrows raised in question. Bard’s almost dreamy expression was an open book to read for the Elvenking but there was no need to let the human know, Thranduil decided.

“Forgive me, my mind has gone astray. It was an exhausting and troublesome day” Bard confessed truthfully, but did not speak the truth.

The Elvenking simply nodded and sat finally down at one of the wooden chairs, gesturing Bard to follow his actions. Bard obliged and within seconds, his goblet was refilled with more of the potent wine before he began to study the map of Erebor in more detail.

 

~~

In the flickering candle-light they exchanged information about prosperous trade that had existed between the Realms before the dragon came and Laketown fell, possibilities of beneficial allies and – of course - the coming day, the morning when Erebor would fall. Soon, the first decanter was empty and to Bard’s surprise it was the King himself who took care to refill it.

No servants or guards were anywhere present.

“The world is made a better place when minds alike unite” Bard remembered the words the Elvenking had said this afternoon and their minds indeed seemed alike when it came to Thorin Oakenshield and every time, the name of the accusated dwarf fell, the lips of the Elvenking twisted then into a bitter, wry smile that had no mirth in it.

The evening stretched into the night and in the meanwhile Bard had lost all sense for time and he truly enjoyed the company the Elvenking offered. The only word that was fitting to describe their discussion was pleasant, something that Bard had definitely not expected when he made his way through the snow-covered ruins earlier.

It was indeed a most welcome surprise and soon the political topics were laid aside and more personal words were exchanged.

The wine clearly showed its effect on Bard, Thranduil observed with a little satisfaction, his speech was already slightly slurred, his cheeks reddened from the alcohol and it almost seemed as if Bard harbored the exact same thoughts.

Thranduil however seemed not affected at all from the wine – despite the fact that he at least had drunk twice his share, drowning one goblet after the other. Bard’s mind spun or was that the vivid imagination that awoke from simple exhaustion, that made the shadows dance and darken across the imperious Elvenking’s fair face?

His gaze lingered a moment too long on the perfect features of the Elvenking, frozen to the flexing muscles on the elf’s throat. Every time the elf swallowed, the tendons danced beneath the skin. He cursed himself for his stupidity! Grateful he should be for the kindness that was shown towards him, for the tasteful food and the delicious wine; yet all he could think of was the otherworldly beauty and what it would be like to….

His musings however were fiercely interrupted by the King’s voice

“Tired?” Thranduil asked calmly and all of a sudden his voice felt too close for Bard, even if the elf had not moved a single inch. It did not make any sense but the not-existent proximity made his mind swirl uncontrollable, unable to do anything against it. Bard frowned.

“Nay..” the man replied and shook his head. It was not fatigue, it was a combination of drowsiness resulting from the Dorwinion and mental absence due to enchantment, he knew – but made it any difference?

His breath was caught in his chest as their eyes met and the Elvenking’s eye twinkled for just for a second as if he was about to flirt with him.

Despite the warmth of the fire Bard shivered, a knot forming in his stomach – what was this all about? He almost felt as if Thranduil was playing the game of cat-and-mouse on his expenses.

Once again the man’s naiveté brought mixture of amusement and endearment to the Elvenking’s mind but Thranduil refrained from speaking his mind aloud. Yet, he had to admit to himself that he found the bowman’s attitude rather charming, how he was lost in his not so innocent musing.

After long moments of silence, the King finally stated. “Do not take me for a fool, Bard of Laketown”

Not even after he had told Mirkwood’s King about Thorin’s unwillingness to surrender had he seen such a stern look in Thranduil’s eyes.

“Pardon me …?” he blurted out, before he felt how his cheeks turned pink from embarrassment in an instant. It was not wise nor sane to address Mirkwood’s King in such an inappropriate manner, Bard should have known.

There rumors about King Thranduil’s ill-temper were countless and most likely he had provoked it with his snapped inquiry. Just in the moment when he opened his mouth to defend himself, the Elvenking cut off his thoughts and speech.

“Nothing …” Thranduil simply said with a smirk that could be almost described as mischievous. The mask of ice the Elvenking had worn during the day had long fallen to pieces whilst they drank and dined together in the middle of the night, but it was not until now that Bard fully realized that Thranduil’s demeanor has entirely changed.

Bard shook his head in pure astonishment, not having expected to see a different side of Mirkwood’s Kings nor has he dared to hope that his rather inappropriate behavior would go unpunished.

Realization and comprehension were entirely different matters, however.

Thranduil continued his monologue almost in a mocking tone, a sly smirk spread across his lips “I merely suggest that you should guard your thoughts and eyes a little better if you do not desire your intentions to be revealed”

Bard was at a loss and his mouth gasped open in shock, and instantly his head hung down in mingled shame and embarrassment, seeing his secret finally revealed.

He should take his leave now, he knew it – yet he remained exactly where he sat with his hands playing nervously with the silver goblet.

“So …?” Thranduil pressed, but silence was the only answer he obtained from the man who still averted his eyes, starring at the plate on the table right before him.

“Bard the Dragonslayer” the Elvenking continued, his voice filled with ringing laughter and amusement.

“If I truly had desired to discuss matters of warfare, I would have summoned a council with my leaders – but I have not. The truth is, I merely wanted to enjoy your company, I still do. Forgive me, but the dwarves were the perfect excuse to summon you.” He offered with a genuine smile whilst he watched Bard’s reaction closely.

“I’ve seen how you have observed me from the corner of your eyes earlier this day, Bard of Laketown. There was something in your gaze that was different from the other stares I’ve received and I felt as if this only intensified.”

There was nothing Bard could reply in his defense.

Every word Thranduil had spoken was absolutely correct. He had watched, stared to be more precise at this ethereal creature, from the corner of his eyes at first and when he had assumed that the King would not notice, even more brazen. His mouth, however, refused to speak the confession he wanted, needed to make, aloud.

The abrupt change in tone caught Bard by surprise and his gaze flickered upwards to meet Thranduil’s eyes.

“I suspected as much but I had to be certain about it...” the Elvenking said coldly, his eyes resting expectantly on the man “Tell me, Bard, are my assumptions correct or am I completely mistaken?”

The icy threat was already part of the little game the Elvenking loved to play, Bard’s flushed cheeks were answer enough already.

Everything had been clear from the beginning.

“Aye” Bard nodded almost shyly, not delighted by the fact that his mind was an open book to read for this regal creature. It would not end any good, of that he was absolutely certain.

“… I mean.. they are correct. No offense was meant, though.” Bard offered apologetically with twitching lips and played nervously with the hands that rested in his lap.

The Elvenking had been nothing else than kind towards him and his people those past days, yet he feared the reaction to his admittance and the ice-cold tone only emphasized his worries.

“None taken” Thranduil replied immediately, before the man could lose himself in apologies and excuses that he did not desire to hear.

Silently, he wondered WHEN exactly the mortal would finally understand what he was implying, even offering willingly.

But apparently, it was beyond the bowman to comprehend his true intention behind their nocturnal meeting.

Thranduil frowned and took another sip of the potent wine, pondering his thoughts and opportunities.

Words would fail him most likely in this course, he had decided and rose to his feet in an instant. With two hasty steps the Elvenking rounded the table and came to stand behind the startled bowman.

Bard’s brown eyes widened in a way that only could be described as utterly shocked as his gaze followed the graceful movements of the Elvenking.

Yet, before he could think any further, speak his apologizes aloud once more, Bard felt the elf’s slender fingers brush against his neck and his head fell automatically backwards to meet Thranduil’s eyes.

Bard was not prepared for the emotions that were displayed on the Elvenking’s face and in his eyes. Lust and longing mingled with worries and various other emotions, ranging from gratitude to fear.

With a genuine smile, Thranduil lowered his head a little further and breathed against the man’s ear “You are not the only one with desires, Bard of Laketown”

He swallowed hard as his mind began to process the true meaning of the words the Elvenking had just said.

 

~~~~~~

“Is this wise?” Bard asked in a trembling voice when both of Thranduil’s hands slipped from above under his tunic and soft fingers began to stroke over his naked chest. In the faint light of the candles it almost seemed as if he saw subtle shades of rose spread over the Elvenking’s cheeks.

It was impossible to resist the temptation and Bard yielded to the touch, closing his eyes when his heart began to beat in an almost maddening pace.

“Wise or not – I do not care” the elf replied almost dangerously but with a smirk and skilled fingers began to unlace Bard’s tunic in haste. With a whisper he added calmly “Let those who will speak their words of disapproval speak aloud. Words are naught but wind.”

The replies Bard wanted to give got stuck in his throat, not a single syllable would leave his lips. It was the elf who broke the silence once more.

“If you are not willing to speak with me anymore” Thranduil said with a broad smirk, clearly seeing the inner turmoil Bard was fighting. “Take at least this off for me, then” he demanded softly, before he placed a gentle kiss against the mortal’s neck. As soon as his lips touched the skin, he withdrew both of his hands from the skin for mere seconds only to encircle both nipples with his fingertips a moment later.

It was maddening – all of it and especially in combination, Bard nearly lost control over his mind. Those skillful fingers brushing against his skin, the perfect lips against his neck biting every now and then teasingly, the long hair tickling him each time the Elvenking moved his head was nearly enough to let his mind slip into blissful reverie.

When his nipples were squeezed fiercely without further warning, Bard cried out however, not able to determine if it was from pleasure or pain – or both.

“Shut up – I do not want the entire camp to hear you. If you do not - I will make you” Thranduil warned and pulled the man’s head backwards.

His voice was ice-cold all of a sudden again when he threatened him, his lips only inches away from his ear. It was playfull, yes – but it was a threat nonetheless. “There are ways to do so, believe me…”

He did not go into more details but Bard’s almost shocked wide eyes told him that he had understood perfectly well what he was implying. The puzzled expression on Bard’s face was priceless the Elvenking had to admit and instantly, he was rewarded with silence and the men with a self-satisfied smirk for the elf’s side.

It was a valid point after all, Bard had to admit – their nocturnal activities were their thing alone and were at best not over-heard by eavesdropping ears.

 

~~

Bard was not submissive by nature - to yield and to surrender had definitely not been one of his assets in the past - yet it felt like the most natural thing for him to submit to this perfect and fair creature and so he did as he was asked.

Slowly, he stripped of his tunic and threw the garment onto the floor.

It was thrilling to the core, the mingling of lust and a little bit of fear alone pushed him into a world he had not known so far and not even in his wildest dreams had he dared to hope for anything of this to occur.

To fall under the spell of the mighty King of Greenwood the Great, to loose himself in the throes of passion and pain, in the night before siege would be laid to Erebor – it was madness, it was wicked – it was not sane and most likely not safe either – but Bard simply did not care anymore as a wave of heat rushed through him.

For long moments he simply stared at the bewitching appearance of the Elvenking, enchanted by the otherworldly beauty that Thranduil resembled, allowed his eyes to travel over the perfect features of his face - but once more it were his stunning blue eyes that hold him captive.

As if in trance, Bard rose from his seat and bridged the distance between them. Without words he gently wove his hand into the silken locks of the elf’s hair that was so very different from his own, playing absentmindedly with a golden strand – taken aback that the Elvenking allowed the gesture.

Just in the moment when he was about to capture the elf’s lips, his eyes already closed, that strong arms held his face firmly in place.

Instantly, Bard’s eyes snapped open in pure astonishment, has he so misinterpreted Thranduil’s desires?

“My tent, my terms, Bard of Laketown” the Elvenking whispered with his lips only inches away from his own, utter temptation lingering just before him and nothing he could do about it. It was maddening and cruel, Bard decided, but still he agreed to the terms the King has set. “Whatever happens this night will happen under my conditions and mine alone – understood?”

Before his mind could process the entirety of the words, Bard simply nodded as their eyes locked for brief moments.

And not a second later, his lips were claimed in a manner that only could be described as possessive, with searing passion rushing through them. Nothing of the icy demeanor of the Elvenking was present, it felt as if an imperishable flame burned in his body.

Taken aback by both surprise and sensation, Bard yielded to the kiss with closed eyes and parted his lips, the elf’s head still resting in his calloused hands.

Certainly, Bard has had lovers – males and females alike - in the past, but this kiss alone felt so entirely different from anything he experienced, yet he had also to admit that he had never kissed an elf before.

This alone was thrill enough, that it was Mirkwood’s imperious ruler only added to his excitement and Bard was at a loss, pure desire washing over him in waves.

There was no time for pleasantries and gentle experimentation as it seemed, the kiss was fierce and demanding, leaving both panting breathlessly when they finally broke apart, their hands holding the other’s head.

A genuine smile crossed Thranduil’s lips as he took a step behind to obtain a better view of the man. His shining eyes travelled along Bard’s face and slowly down over his well-trained chest, the muscular arms, eyes that were soon followed by his fingertips, brushing against the heated skin.

“I like what I see…” the Elvenking commented almost absentmindedly, running his index finger from the man’s navel upwards.

Bard on the other side wished he could see more of the divine being - for his liking, the elf wore way too many clothes. Without giving his idea another thought, he brought his hands to the fastening of the King’s velvet cape but there he hesitated.

“Would you mind?” Bard asked timidly, locking their gaze for a moment. It was a mystery how the elf’s bewitching eyes seemed to change within seconds.

“No – would you?” Thranduil replied teasingly.

And so Bard began to unfasten the expensive fabric until it pooled around the Elvenking’s feet who did not seem to care at all. Bard was caught off guard, when he felt the King’s strong arms slipping around his waist, pressing their already aroused bodies together.

Thranduil still wore too much but there was little that he could do about it now, being held captive in the embrace.  

“Burdened is the head that wears the crown indeed, for the crown is heavy!” Those were the exact words that the King had confessed earlier to him and now they repeated over and over again in his mind, mingling with the sensation that rushed through him after their kiss.

He felt a distinct need – even an unexplainable urge – to touch Thranduil’s divine body, to swipe the troubling thoughts off the elf’s mind, to taste him and make him scream in pleasure.

And so it came that Bard of Laketown sank to his knees before the imperious King of Greenwood the Great, his dark eyes directed expectedly upwards to meet the Elvenking’s gaze, awaiting his approval in silence.

An almost puzzled smile hushed over Thranduil’s lips, tilting his head slightly to his side as if he told his gratitude through gestures alone – certainly he had not expected this to happen, but he didn’t seem to mind, either.

It was consent enough from the elf’s side, Bard decided for himself, and without hesitation he began to unfasten the lacings of Thranduil’s leggings with his fingertips in an almost teasingly slow manner.

Every now and then his, his fingertips brushed against the prominent bulge between the elf’s legs and for brief moments, his mind went astray and his movements stilled – he had never seen a naked elf before, not even thought about it if he was completely honest – and Bard had to admit that he had not the slightest idea of elven physique.

His thoughts were rewarded by a distinct blush that crept into his face and his cheeks felt as if they were set on fire.

“What is it?” Thranduil inquired, his voice ringing with laughter and his eyes sparkling with mirth as he looked down on the rather nervous bowman that seemed to stare to the floor he was kneeling on.

“Err .. nothing?” Bard lied shamelessly, nibbling his lower lip in insecurity.

When one of the jeweled finger’s came to rest under Bard’s chin, making him look into his own eyes, the Elvenking stated with a broad smile. “You’ve never seen anything like me … nude – that is it”

It was as if the elf has read his mind, speaking his very thoughts aloud and for brief moments Bard almost believed the ridiculous rumors about elvish witchcraft and mind-reading.

“How would you know?” he asked, still astonished about how Thranduil would know exactly what he was thinking.

“Because I would have heard of it if you’ve bedded one of my people in Laketown. And believe me, I would not have liked it.” The elf simply replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world, that he would know what his subjects did whilst being abroad.

Without noticing, a sigh of relief left Bard’s lips and he cursed his own foolishness; never has he paid much attention nor believed those ridiculous rumors about the Wood-Elves that ghosted through Laketown like the cold breath of winter on a regular basis.

“Are you frightened?” Thranduil asked in all honestly, his voice carried an almost worried note.

“Nay… well.. maybe a little” he confessed. For a brief moment Bard swayed, but then he remembered with a smile that he had made his decision already a while ago and resumed his actions, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind.

Not long after, the fabric pooled around the Elvenking’s feet and Bard gasped upon the revelation, which earned him another chuckle from the elf. After all and with all the differences between their races, at least in those matters they were alike, yet Bard had to admit with wide eyes that the King was extraordinary well-endowed.

His hands went up Thranduil’s thighs that were hardened from the training ground, before Bard began to let his lips follow the trace of his fingertips. Silently, he wondered when exactly the King would lose his patience with him as he teased him, ignoring the part which begged the most attention on purpose. Thranduil’s gaze followed every movement of his hands and lips, but the expected order to finish what he began never came, it seemed that – at least for once – Bard was free to do whatever he wanted to.

The knowledge made him smile genuinely against the creamy skin of the elf and he decided that he had tortured him enough, willing to pleasure his lover with his mouth.

 

~~

With half-lid eyes, Bard closed his lips around the head of his lover’s cock, drawing in just enough to taste the salty droplets of pre-cum. It was just enough to increase the excitement on the elf’s side when his tongue darted out and licked along the vein underneath.

‘Long have I shut my mind down and barricaded myself from the outside world behind those walls of stone’ the Elvenking had said on their first meeting some days past, his voice had been nothing more than an icy gust of wind and Bard was grateful that the elf had finally decided to let the mask of ice fall from his face, to loose himself in searing heat that his body still hold captive.

What on earth made him think that Bard was innocent, Thranduil could not tell – but it did not made any difference now. He cherished the divine sensation that the man had decided to give freely, his eyes were already darkened with lust - because gods, obviously the bowman was all but innocent in what he did, kneeling submissively before him.

And Bard’s next move only underlined the King’s assumptions.

Without further warning, Bard’s mouth suddenly went down almost all the way, just as much as the thick length allowed him to take. His tongue lay flat against the back of the shaft and with every swallow he let his head sink an inch further down, before he finally began to move his head up and down, peeking up mischievously under lowered lashes.

The Elvenking seldom lost his perfect composure, but now everything cracked to pieces and fell apart, Bard observed with satisfaction. His golden head fell back with a moan in pure bliss and all Thranduil was able to do was to weave his slender fingers into the thick, dark hair of Bard, keeping the man’s head firmly in place, making him swallow whatever he was offered.

It was madness to lose themselves in such foolish throes of passion the night before the battle, Bard thought for a second as he fought against the reflex to gag when the elf’s cock brushed against the back of his throat, but everything was erased when a rain of moans fell free from the Elvenking’s mouth.

Simultaneously, the grip in his dark hair tightened further, making it almost impossible for him to breathe with his face pressed against the flawless skin.

Automatically, he tried to flinch against the grip but his efforts had been in vain and Bard was not entirely certain if this was not completely to his own liking, realizing just how hard he had become whilst he sucked the King’s cock greedily, the distinct aroma of pre-cum already lingering on his tongue.

Bard’s hands found their way to the well-trained backside, squeezing the King’s cheeks fiercely until another moan tumbled from Thranduil’s lips and his cock twitched in response, still buried deep in his mouth.

Promptly, lips curled into a naughty smirk around the elf’s arousal and he was certain that Thranduil would notice, but he decided he did not care anymore.

“Enough of it. Rise..” the Elvenking demanded softly, catching his breath as he brought one of his finger beneath the man’s chin, lifting his face and locking their eyes once more – it was rather obvious that his ministration had pushed Thranduil nearly over the edge and a self-satisfied smile hushed over Bard’s lips just before he rose.

Bard sprang to his feet instantly, and every motion was observed by the Elvenking’s piercing eyes. How his breath came unsteady and trembling, his mouth still wet with saliva, the cheeks all flushed from exhaustion and arousal, the brown eyes even darker than they had been before.

It was a sight to behold, Thranduil admitted in silence and with a smile. His eyes soaked up the divine display Bard offered for brief moments, just before he wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s back, pulling him close.

To Bard’s surprise, the Elvenking kissed him with utter affection - but not less passionately until they trembled in each other’s arms, lost for words, lost for breath, lost in insatiable longing for each other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Believe me, there is nothing nicer than a lit candle on a cold night.“ the Elvenking whispered.
> 
> wax play and sex and lots of feelings afterwards...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all the lovely feedback here and on tumblr <3 I hope you'll enjoy the last chapter as well :)

**Of Darkened Eves - Chapter 03**

~~

Bard felt as if he would lose conscious, losing the ground beneath his feet when their lips met, their heated body entangled, with the Elvenking’s hands roaming over his naked back, nestling at the waistband of his pants until they finally slipped underneath the fabric, where they came to a comfortable rest on his backside. Bard made no effort to be quiet this time, but all his noises were lost in their passionate kisses, drowned by the raging winter-storm that raged outside.

His own hands tried to unfasten Thranduil’s heavy robe but the tight embrace made it simply impossible to undress the elf.

Sooner or later it will fall, Bard thought to himself with a smile, not realizing that Thranduil began to push him gently into another direction, out of the room where they had discussed and shared wine together. Bard stepped automatically backwards and followed the elf’s very movements without hesitation as if he was in trance, his eyes tightly closed in bliss but still slightly annoyed by the Elvenking’s garments.

In something which only could be described as madness on Bard’s side, he grabbed the Elvenking by the front of his fine robes, pulling his face towards his own. Pure desire washed over him and not a single sane thought remained in his lust-fogged mind, feeling Thranduil’s hands groping his backside.

Surprised, Bard realized that Thranduil had apparently decided to overlook his impertinence and he briefly wondered why. His actions were not stilled nor rejected this time as Thranduil kissed him just as fiercely back as he did himself, low moans escaping from their parted mouths as hands began to wander through one another’s hair. He had the answer to his question now, Thranduil seemed equally lost in desire, a fact that made him smile against his lover’s lips. This action however was instantly rewarded by Thranduil, biting his lower lip rather firm.

“Ouch” Bard complained momentary but Thranduil had decided not to care at the slightest, grabbing a fistful of dark-hair and pulling the man’s head backwards to reveal his throat.

It didn’t take long until the elf’s lips wandered from Bard’s mouth down his throat, kissing and biting him until he moaned helplessly.

“Shut up” the King whispered against his bruised skin, before he bit even harder, making sure it would leave a mark behind.

Mark or not, Bard didn’t care anymore, his own hands were anything but idle as they slipped beneath the Elvenking’s robe to touch the silken skin that lay beneath, clenching and scratching the flawless skin with his fingernails.

There was nothing gentle nor affectionate in the caresses they shared in heated passion, tumbling into the direction of the Elvenking’s bedchamber.

The sole reason why he still stood on his own feet was the fragile nature of the tent, Bard was almost certain of it as he pictured the scenario rather vividly.

With a solid wall around them, he would be lifted against the cold stones within seconds, his legs wrapped around the elf’s waist, getting fucked until he can't tell up from down, screaming the King’s name in pure ecstasy.

It was certainly not the most unpleasant fantasy he ever had and his loins responded instantly, his cock growing harder with every image that rushed through his mind, with every time Thranduil’s teeth sank into his neck.

His wicked musings were interrupted in the moment when his naked back brushed against the soft curtain that separated Thranduil’s bedroom from the rest of the pavilion, and his expression must have been rather dumb – or at least slightly surprised, maybe even scared - as the elf began to chuckle against his lips, watching him curiously.

“Are you afraid?” the Elvenking asked, tilting his head a little to the side to obtain a better view of Bard’s face.

“Is there a reason to?” Bard asked back, his eyes gleaming in the soft light.

“This all depends on you, bowman” Thranduil replied mysteriously with a knowing smile – and pushed him into his bedchamber without adding another word.

Behind the velvet curtains that separated the king’s bedroom from the rest of the pavillion lay an entirely different world, Bard knew with eyes closed - without having caught a glimpse of it, still standing backwards to the room, facing the Elvenking. But Bard did not even desired to open his eyes and observe his surroundings; the mere thought in combination with elf’s most recent words made Bard’s mind spinning, it felt as all blood rushed directly into the lower parts of his body. Momentary, it felt as if he was caught in a dream that consisted of nothing else than naughtiness and wicked desires, and as his eyes opened he stared right into Thranduil’s mesmerizing ones.

Their roaming hands and movements stilled for a second as they lost themselves in the other’s eyes. It was as if they were speaking their consent to a shared night in desire and passion in silence, nodding both simultaneously.

Bard was the first to regain at least some sort of composure. He tried to turn around, finally curious of what awaited him – but apparently the elf had other ideas, strong arms hindered his movements forcefully.

There was absolutely nothing that Bard could do against the firm grip of Thranduil’s hands against his upper arms, realizing that he had underestimated the strength of the Elvenking again. Bard furrowed his brows, wondering what this was all about, but it was obvious when the elf took a step forward, Bard’s arms still holding firmly in place.

If wished or not – Bard had to follow Thranduil’s movements and took automatically a step backwards. It was the Elvenking’s predatory and self-satisfied smirk that gave the answer to his questions.

Thranduil had planned this – ALL of this - all along, and involuntary a sigh of frustration left his bruised lips – how could he have been so blind? So naïve? But then at the same time, he asked himself - did it actually matter? What difference did it make? None, he decided – wasn’t this exactly of what he had dreamt of for mere seconds earlier this day, before sanity slipped back into his mind?

“I will lead and you will follow - understood?” Thranduil whispered seductively against Bard’s ear, letting his tongue flicker against the skin for not longer than a second, but it was enough to make the man’s stomach quiver with excitement.

Lost for words, Bard simply nodded, picturing various scenarios that the elf could have in mind rather vividly, trembling in anticipation against Thranduil’s strong body.

Bard was entirely caught off guard, when the back of his knees hit the massive bed that stood in the middle of the Elvenking’s bedchamber. Instantly, Thranduil let go of his arms and shoved him wordlessly onto the bed, observing his fall with a smirk of satisfaction. Bard however fell with a startled expression on his face onto the finest silks he had ever touched, with the elf standing before him between his parted legs.

Finally, Bard allowed his eyes to wander over the elf’s bedchamber, observing the splendor of the little details in sheer wonder. Wooden ornamented chandeliers, holding several heavily scented candles, stood in every corner of the room, burning brightly. If Bard would not have known that this was a provisory dwelling, he had not believed it - the bed itself was covered with dark burgundy sheets made out of the finest silk with numerous pillows in the same dark tone of red resting against the wooden headboard.

But it was Thranduil that took his breath away once again.

The candles were the only source of light, painting Thranduil’s bedchamber into various shades of orange, making the Elvenking’s skin glow golden. Every now and then when a gust of wind howled outside, shadows danced across his face and Bard found that they highlighted the fair features even more.

All Bard could do was to stare upwards with wide eyes. Mesmerized and in awe, he watched the graceful movements of the Elvenking, how those slender and skilled fingers finally began to unlace the fastenings of the silken robe.

With a smile and in a single fluid movement, Thranduil pulled the garment over his head and let the expensive clothes fall carelessly to the floor, revealing his nude body in its entirety. The action was rewarded with an audible gasp from the man who lay stock-still, almost frozen on the dark silks.

Apparently the elf had observed the futile attempts of Bard to unlace the robe previously, as he asked with a chuckle, moving a step closer to the bed. “Better?”

“Aye.. MUCH better” Bard replied with a smile - he did not even try to hide his stare or avert his gazes when his eyes lingered on the elf’s body who now wore nothing more than his silvery circlet.

The Elvenking’s body was beyond perfection and Bard found that no words existed in his language to describe the sheer beauty. Maybe they did exists though in the alien tongue of the elves which he could not understand, Bard mused whilst his eyes were prisoner of the seductive sight and he allowed them to roam over the broad, well-trained shoulders and arms, further down over the muscles that flexed beneath the glistering and hairless skin of the Elvenking’s chest. As his gaze came to rest on the prominent erection between the elf’s legs, Bard gasped in anticipation.

“You like what you see, Bard of Laketown, but I have suspected as much” Thranduil commented the mortal’s brazen stare nonchalantly as if he did not care about it, but within seconds, his voice changed and he almost purred seductively, bending down until he could touch Bard’s chest with his fingertips. “But believe me, you are not the only one who likes to observe, who likes what he sees”

Painfully slow the elf’s soft fingers began to dance over every single muscle beneath Bard’s tanned skin in a feathery touch, encircling his navel for brief moments before the digits continued their journey along the thin line of hair that led to the waistband of Bard’s pants. There they stilled for a moment before the elf’s fingers ghosted over the more than prominent bulge, brushing for the blink of an eye against it.

“I have suspected as much, yes – but I have NOT suspected that my body has such an effect on you, bowman” the Elvenking whispered, bending further down until the ends of his hair tickled Bard’s chest, his fingers still not really touching the man’s erection.

It was maddening and cruel at the same time and Bard decided that he had enough of Thranduil’s teasing, the Elvenking’s previous words of ‘I will lead and you will follow’ entirely forgotten. Without giving his idea another thought, Bard bend his legs unseen by the elf until his feet kicked the back of Thranduil’s knees.

He had not seen this brazen movement coming – nor has he expected anything of that sort either – the Elvenking was caught entirely of guard and began to sway, unable to keep his balance any longer and fell face forward on the man who couldn’t hold back a chuckle. For the first time, Thranduil looked rather graceless as he fell, his eyes wide in shock.

And so it came that Bard of Laketown lay on his back in Thranduil’s own bed – with the fair and now nude Elvenking resting on top of him, their lips only inches away, their aroused bodies touching. The mere thought made him smile from ear to the other, it was beyond ridiculous if he gave it second thought. To his surprise, Thranduil was heavy – in fact a lot heavier than Bard had expected him to be, his graceful and fluid movements and those fine robes hid that his millennia old body was steeled from battles and possibly long days on the training ground.

Thranduil drew in a deep breath, for seconds completely lost for words upon Bard’s assault, collecting his confused thoughts.

It only served him right, he decided, and simply shook his head in wonder, making his hair brush against the man’s cheeks.

“And what was that for?” was to Bard’s surprise the only reaction of the Elvenking.

“Well, I wanted to kiss you again, that was it for…” Bard replied with a twinkle in his eyes. He possibly wandered on dangerous ground, but he was curious for whatever reaction Thranduil was willing to display.

“And then why don’t you? Words are naught but smoke and mirrors..” the elf whispered, his lips all of a sudden brushing against Bard’s own, breath tickling his skin.

Without awaiting the reply from the man, Thranduil kissed him passionately and fierce until Bard gasped and moaned into his mouth upon the sudden invasion, with his hands clinging to the elf’s neck.

Thranduil was beyond satisfied with Bard’s reaction, feeling their erections pressing together, yet he cursed in silence: the garment that Bard still wore was such an annoyance.

Almost automatically, Bard’s legs wrapped around the elf’s waist and he was rewarded with another heated kiss. They soon found themselves reversing their positions constantly, legs and arms wrapped around one another, loosing themselves in the passionate and not so gentle caresses until their lips burnt.

When their position was reversed once again, it was Bard who had apparently enough of it for the moment. With a single movement, he wriggled free of the embrace and came to sit to Thranduil’s astonishment astride his thighs, his lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

It was not completely obvious who led and who followed, Thranduil mused whilst he observed the man’s face, but he decided to let Bard get away with it for now, curiosity gaining the upper hand realizing how the man lowered his head towards a distinct direction, his lips curled into a smile.

Teasingly slow, Bard lowered his head until his dark hair brushed against the Elvenking’s thighs, gaze directed expectantly upwards – Thranduil had to admit that the coy stare almost took his breath away and he was grateful that he had not scolded his disobedient lover a second ago.

Not less jollying than his smirk, Bard let the tip of his tongue run over the elf’s erection and curled his fingers around the hard flesh, tenderly stroking the base of the cock whilst he began to suck eagerly.

Thranduil yelped with passion, with every flicker of his lover’s tongue the moans only intensified and Bard suspected that he would not last long if he continued like this. The realization made him smile again, entirely satisfied with his performance but apparently the Elvenking had something different in mind.

“Come up here…” Thranduil demanded and Bard obliged this time, letting his lover’s erection slip from his mouth and almost crawled seductively back on top of him, still a smile on his lips.

“Like this?” he asked with played shyness, peeking up under half-lid lashes.

“No, like that!” Thranduil replied, just before the man’s lips were caught in a searing kiss once more. The perfect skin of the elf was already sore – most likely from his rough stubble, but Thranduil did not seem to care, lost in his desire and need.

With every second that passed, Bard grew bolder in his own aroused state, tracing along the King’s perfect cheekbone with the tips of his fingers whilst his lips began their journey downwards.

With closed eyes he let his lips and tongue wander along the jugular vein, caressing every inch of the flawless skin, at times even nibbling ever so slightly. But it was the spot right behind the pointy ear that made Thranduil cry out in pleasure. Bard had to admit that the pointy ears of the elves held an utter fascination for him ever since, but now they appeared even more fascinating, knowing how sensitive they were, how deliciously his lover reacted upon the bestowed kisses.

Bard leaned in, tracing his tongue lightly over the curves of the ear before he nibbled at the newly discovered spot again, his fingers curled into the silken hair.

Now it was the Elvenking who was not silent at all but gave into the bliss he felt, Bard thought with amusement and he couldn’t hold back a chuckle, laughing against the wet skin before he caressed the exact spot again and was rewarded instantly. Thranduil’s back ached against the burgundy silk, moaning helplessly with half-lid eyes and beginning to throw his head from one side to the other – at least as much as Bard let him, his hand still holding a fistful of the pale hair.

It was fascinating to see the imperious, icy king coming undone under his lips and hands alone within the blink of an eye, making him squirm with need, making him scream in desire, writhing against the covers with half-lid eyes.

Instantly, and with a wave of guilt, Bard feared that he would never get enough of the divine sight the Elvenking displayed in this very moment – it was madness, it was never meant to be, yet there they were, sharing sweet pleasures between the Elven Lord's sheets.

Realizing how lost Bard was in his musings for the moment, Thranduil took the opportunity and reversed their positions, finally being able to remove the restricting garment from his lover. It had annoyed him long enough, the Elvenking decided – and cut the lacings simply apart with a shining dagger.

Bard eyes widened in shock, it was a terrifying mystery where the dagger in the elf’s hand had come from all of a sudden, after all Thranduil wore - exactly - nothing.

“Don’t ask…” he stated apologetically in a gentle voice, reading the puzzled expression on his lover’s face and putting the dagger aside before he finally resumed to remove the fabric from Bard’s legs, a content smile crossing his lips when the pant finally fell to the floor.

“Better .. so much better..” Thranduil commented with an almost dreamy voice, entirely pleased with what he saw. The elf’s stunning eyes have lost all coldness, Bard realized, as they travelled downwards and to his surprise they were soon followed by fingers, brushing against his inner thighs and pelvis but constantly ignoring his weeping erection.

Just in the moment when he finally had enough of Thranduil’s cruel teasing and was tempted to mutter his frustration aloud, the elf sneaked in a fluid motion on top him, pinning him down with his entire weight.

It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling though, Bard had to admit as he brushed his lips against Thranduil’s once more, biting the elf’s lower lip fiercely in revenge for the agonizing caresses before he claimed the bruised lips in a passionate kiss.

Fueled by his own desire, Bard almost automatically parted his legs and wrapped them around his lover’s hips, increasing the friction between their aroused bodies when he pushed his hips expectantly upwards, rubbing himself rather shamelessly against the elf’s body. The position they were in was entirely unambiguous, leaving no doubt what would happen next – that was at least what Bard thought and it sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

For mere seconds, Thranduil allowed – even yielded to the gesture - before he rolled off the man, coming to rest on his back, laughing heartedly.

“What?” Bard snapped, his voice ringing in surprise and with a puzzled expression on his face. He was completely taken-aback by the unexpected response of the elf.

“Maybe you have forgotten, Bard of Laketown, that I am the King. Surely you do not assume that I will do the work for you – do you?” Thranduil asked coyly with a fluttering lashes, finally gaining the upper hand in their little game again.

The words and the mischievous look the Elvenking gave him took his breath away; Bard did not even know anymore what he had assumed a second ago but it mattered little, he concluded.

“And what if I have – what would be the consequence of it?” he replied not less flirtatious as he rolled himself onto his side, playing absentmindedly with a strand of Thranduil’s hair. It ran like silk through his fingers.

Bard found the little flirtatious game extremely to his liking, despite the knowledge that he could only loose with Thranduil having thousands of years advance – but was to lose not part of the fun? Bard mused, smirking slyly.

Indeed he had made his finite decision a while ago; no matter what the Elvenking would ask of him that very night, he would follow his lead and his commands, to pleasure him until he had forgotten his own name – wise or not, Bard did not care anymore, unable to resist the temptation that Thranduil certainly was.

All sanity was pushed to the back of Bard’s mind as he lost himself in his fantasies again. The smug smirk that was spread over the elf’s lips went unnoticed, it was the King’s voice that tore him out of his flirtation mood.

“Bard of Laketown” began the Elvenking, shaking his head in amusement “I have my ways to make you regret your words and thoughts, believe me..” Thranduil warned in a now dangerously low voice and his eyes began to wander away from his lover towards the other end of the room. Absentmindedly, as if in enchantment Bard’s own gaze followed Thranduil’s eyes – and then he involuntary froze as the Elvenking’s gaze came to rest on the ornamented candle-holder.

The smug smirk on the King’s lips only intensified as he saw that Bard exactly understood what he was implying.

“Thranduil… you do not mean to?...?” the man asked rather shocked, staring in the direction of the brightly burning candles.

“Of course I do! Have you never tried?” the King asked almost surprised as if it was the most normal and common thing to do in the bedroom.

“Nay .. “ Bard simply shook his head, his eyes still wide with astonishment.

Maybe, after all, elves and men were a little different indeed - maybe those games were standard in the Woodland Realm? Bard thought in silence, wondering what else those wicked elves did between the sheets. However, he refrained from speaking his thoughts aloud but despite a slight fear his curiosity was picked and he had a good chance to find it out for himself this very night.

“Such a pity.” The Elvenking stated almost absentmindedly. “Believe me, there is nothing nicer than a lit candle on a cold night.“ the meaning of the words was ambivalent and yet it was obvious what exactly Thranduil had in mind. Without adding another word, the elf rose to his feet and wandered soundlessly towards the burning candles, presenting Bard his perfect backside, with the ends of the long blond hair brushing against his muscular arse. Bard gasped – and watched the eternally graceful movements closely, losing himself in the sight the Elvenking presented.

“It won’t hurt … maybe just a little” he said teasingly when he returned to where Bard rested, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed, the flickering candle in his hand.

With the next words his voice was completely serious again “A single word of discomfort from those lips of yours and I will stop whatever I am doing in an instant.”

Bard simply nodded and Thranduil hoped that he had understand the entire meaning of the words.

“Close your eyes” he demanded softly.

Bard did not remember why and when he had agreed upon this, but he closed his eyes nonetheless – fear and anticipation mingling in his mind, trying to imagine what would happen.

His musing was violently interrupted when he felt the hot burn of the first droplet of liquid wax that hardened instantly against his chest.

“Ouch!” he hissed and his eyes snapped open in an instant but the sight before him almost made him forget the pain. The flickering flame danced across the elf’s features, the beautiful face contorted with the odd combination of sensuality and restraint. Actually, Thranduil was smiling affectionately down at him, rubbing the hardened wax from his skin with his free hand.

And as the Elvenking has said - he had stilled his movements in the moment when Bard had murmured his discomfort - just as he had said he would. “Shall I stop?” he asked softly.

The sole answer Thranduil received was a violent shaking of Bard’s head, a reaction the man couldn’t explain, not even to himself. What the hell was he thinking? He asked himself.

“Good.” Thranduil said with a nod of approval, adding quickly “And as I most likely will hear some more ‘ouchs’ from your lips tonight, I suggest you to use ‘stop it’ if you actually want me to stop what I am doing. All whines and ouchs won’t make me from now on, I will simply ignore them.”

Bard swallowed thickly, it was the subtle threat in the Elvenking’s voice that made him tremble, the seduction that lingered in every word, the prospect that his whimpers would be ignored. Never had he thought that he might enjoy such frivolities between the sheets but there he was – finding himself almost craving for handing over control to this fair creature, to submit to the Elvenking’s will and desires.

It was a mystery to him and he couldn’t recall when exactly this had happened, but the mere thought thrilled him, made his stomach tingle with excitement.

“Relax, then…” Thranduil suggested with a smile as Bard remained quiet.

“But it does hurt….?” he whispered in defense, his voice still trembling.

“Of course it does! It is meant to…!” the Elvenking stated the obvious with a chuckle, his blue eyes sparking in the candle light. “But as I said before - I will stop if you ask me to.” he added, but was almost certain that the human would never ask.

The curiosity in Bard’s brown eyes was beyond thrilling to observe, Thranduil almost regretted to make him close his eyes again.

“Eyes closed or do I have to search for blindfolds?” he almost sneered.

“Nay..” was all Bard whispered, shaking his head.

The low, domineering voice that ghosted over Bard’s bruised lips had left him a heap of arousal and nervousness, but he obliged. It took some effort to steady his breathing and relax but he tried his best and finally succeeded, his eyes closed again.

The drop that followed as his eyes fell close was as unexpected as the first, landing right above his navel from where it run easily further down. Bard bit back another gasp of pain, forcing himself to relax despite the discomfort that rushed through his body. He wanted this to happen, to loose himself in the pleasures the elf had promised him, to enjoy the warmth of the candle in a bitterly cold night just as the Elvenking had said. The next droplet landed on his chest, right next to his nipple where it lost its heat slowly and instantly, Bard felt the nub hardening, his breathing becoming unsteady again. This time, however, pain was subsided by pleasure and the elicited moan was solely from bliss that was only intensified when the tip of Thranduil’s tongue flickered momentary over his nipple.

Every new droplet of liquid wax that came after, was soon followed by the Elvenking’s skillful fingers and soft lips, kissing the remaining pain away. Each droplet that fell, elicited a moan of pleasure from Bard, and it did not take long until he ached his back against the silken sheets, caught in the blissful sensation the elf gave him, incoherent words falling from his lips.

Never had he thought it possible that pain could evoke such pleasure, yet there he was, his mind filled with wanton need.

“You paint a rather pretty picture, Bard of Laketown with your cheeks all flushed - but I think I am far from done with you...” Thranduil purred seductively as his finger trailed along Bard’s cheekbones only to resume his actions seconds later.

With every droplet that fell onto his chest, Bard ached his back against the silken sheets in a divine mixture of pleasure and pain. It did hurt, but despite the pain the sensation was nearly overwhelming. The dual sensation of the hot wax and the wet tongue that danced over each spot where the wax has left his marks, the Elvenking’s hair brushing against the irritated skin made writhe against the sheets he lay on.

Bard’s eyes have long sprang open and Thranduil did not seem to care anymore, leaving him as he was, and he was grateful for it. It was impossible to look away, Bard found - he could not avert his gaze from the sinful creature that was hovering above him, staring at him mesmerized. The Elvenking’s body however did not seem to touch him at the slightest, except for his lips and tongue.

Bard could have screamed from pleasure, screaming his lover’s name for all to hear, feeling his climax building slowly inside him. His faltering composure did not go unnoticed, however.

“I do not even have to touch you, Bard of Laketown to make you come…” the elf commented in a low and amused voice and Bard had no doubt that Thranduil was absolutely right in his assumption.

No words were made to describe his longing for this ethereal being that was his for the night. Or was he his? It mattered little as they lost themselves in the game they played.

“Kiss me…” Bard begged breathlessly, tiny droplets of sweat glistering on his forehead. By all means this was madness, it pushed him nearly over the edge as he realized how skillful lips began to travel from his navel incredibly slowly upwards, following a trail of wax.

Thranduil never used his fingers to touch him, his lips and tongue seemed enough, an inch of his skin caressed like this made his entire body burn. Bard’s eyes followed every movement of the Elvenking, saw how his lover’s lips enclosed his nipple, teasing the nub until it was hard as stone. Incoherent words fell from Bard’s lips when Thranduil bit him gently, the shining blue eyes peeking expectantly upwards. When their eyes met it was as if his world would collapse and it was just in that moment that Thranduil bit a little harder, making him finally scream the Elvenking’s name in pure bliss. He did not refrain from thrashing his head from one side to the other, it seemed as if he has lost control over his mind and body completely.

“Wonderful..” Thranduil commented dryly, but a loving expression ghosted over his face. “But I fear these surroundings are an rather inappropriate setting for your enchanting screams. Unfortunately, to my own distinct dislike, I fear I have to make you shut up”

It was only then when the Kings strong body came to rest fully on top of him and his lips were claimed possessively. The kiss that followed took his breath away; he wished that the Elvenking would never be done with him in this moment.

“Please …” Bard whimpered against his lover’s lips, short of air.

“Please what?” Thranduil raised an eyebrow, but was smiling at the same time before he kissed the man passionately until Bard gasped and moaned into his mouth upon the sudden invasion.

It was brief as a wisp of wind, but it left him flushed and wanton all the more.

Bard stated breathlessly, rather surprised by his own words. “I want you … all of you”

His admission was rewarded with an unexpected chuckle from the elf’s side who pressed his body against him.

“…doing what?” Thranduil inquired, finally sitting up astride him with his head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

“For fuck’s sake…” Bard swore like a sailor and he did not even care anymore, the need was unbearable “stop teasing me but take me!”

It was all what Thranduil wanted, needed to hear and his smile turned into a naughty smirk.

“Turn around then, it makes things easier” Thranduil breathed, it was never a request, it was a subtle command.

 

~~

And more than willing, Bard obliged and shifted his position until he came to rest on his stomach on the Elvenking’s bed – the elf was a mystery, but wasn’t his own behavior in that cold winter night before Erebor would fall the greatest mystery of all? But Erebor and the prospect of war have long slipped his mind, only their carnal desire mattered in those dark hours.

_‘Such a pity’_ Thranduil frowned to himself in silence - the longer his eyes travelled over the Bowman’s perfect round globes, the more naughty fantasies crossed his mind, he even began to imagine how his mortal lover would react to his suggestions rather vividly. But to his own disappointment nothing of that sort was possible this very night; it would not help to solve the matter of Erebor if this man was not able to ride nor walk on the morrow.

He shook his head as if he wanted to chase ever fantasy away – those had to wait for another time at another place, at best in his own realm where the heavy stonewalls swallowed screams perfectly.

“What..?” Bard asked, tilting his head to the side that he could watch the elf who was helplessly lost in musing over his shoulder.

“Nothing of your concern.” Thranduil replied harsher than he had originally intended to.

It was just before Bard let his head sink into the soft pillow again, that the Elvenking could see hurt flicker over his eyes and a wave of guilt washed over him. It was not the man’s fault that he could not do as he pleased tonight and he decided that he owed at least an explanation.

Soundlessly, he crawled on top of him to sit astride his backside, lowering his head until his lips touched Bard’s ear, whispering. “Forgive me. I was contemplating about things that could not come to pass tonight. It’s not your fault, it is my own.”

Bard was startled – Thranduil offering him an apology over nothing was the last thing he had expected to hear – indeed it was odd, he couldn’t recall ever hearing such words from the elf.

But then, but hadn’t almost everything that night been rather unexpected? Odd?

The fact that he had nearly begged to be taken was long forgotten and Thranduil did not seem to recall, either. Instantly, he resumed his actions, letting a waterfall of wax drip between Bard’s shoulder blades until the man writhed against the sheets.

Soon, Bard did not know anymore where fingers ghosted over his back or hot wax caressed his sensitive skin, if teeth sank into his shoulder or if the soft lips kissed away the pain the wax elicited. He felt as if he melted under the Elvenking’s hands just like the wax turned liquid in the burning flame of the candle.

Every now and then the long hair tickled his skin when Thranduil bent down and it only added to his excitement.

The king’s hands became those of an artist, painting useless but pleasant patterns with his fingertips over his back, moving further downwards along his spine with every stroke.

Almost shamelessly, Bard writhed against the silken sheets to increase the friction to satisfy his own need. The reward for his action however was certainly not what Bard anticipated.

“Stop it” Thranduil warned almost inaudible, his lips only inches away from Bard’s ear, hot breath ghosting over the bowman’s skin. I

nvoluntary, Bard froze and a shiver ran down his spine - he felt as if he would come by the Elvenking’s voice alone. Seductively Thranduil added, weaving his hands into the dark locks of his tonight’s lover “I alone decide when … and if … you will find your release tonight. Do you understand?”

“Aye…” Bard mumbled against the silken pillows, stilling his movements and was rewarded momentary.

This time however, his legs were gently parted and the elf came to rest between them, letting his hands wander over the lower part of his back. Bard knew what would come - he wanted, needed it desperately but the thought alone made him tremble.

It has been a good while since the last encounter of that sort and he did not know what exactly to expect from the Elvenking, either.

And as he mused in silence with closed eyes, the burning candle in the elf’s hand was replaced by a vial of lavender oil, and soon Bard felt warm droplets of the scented oil drip onto his lower back. His heart leapt from mingled anticipation and a little fear, being certain what the elf’s next movements would be.

Only seconds later, he felt gentle hands running down all over his back, massaging his aching shoulders and upper arms, until the elf’s actions were rewarded by a content sigh.

“Relax for me..” Thranduil whispered demandingly against his ear, his fingers still digging into the man’s taut muscles.

This innocent and attentive gesture took Bard’s breath away, having it never expected it to occur.

What precisely HAD he expected, Bard wondered briefly? That the King would have his way with him without caring for his well-being? Taking what he wished to possess? Maybe… he admitted to himself, feeling slightly ashamed for his offending and unfair thoughts.

His thoughts, however, were harshly interrupted when he felt one of his lover’s fingers gently push inside him and Bard yelped at the sudden invasion, having been too occupied with his musings to realize in what direction the Elvenking’s hand were wandering – it was entirely his own fault, he concluded when he tried to relax against the finger.

“Are we are little distracted?” Thranduil asked teasingly, breath tickling against the mortal’s neck.

For the blink of an eye his tongue flickered against Bard’s ear, making him squirm against the sheets, bucking his hips against the unusual invasion.

It felt truly odd after such a long time, but soon he would get accustomed to the alien touch, he decided.

A long time ago he had crossed the point of no return, his entire body was quivering with need, he wanted this, needed this so badly – feeling the elf’s lips against his skin, his teeth biting in his flesh, coming undone by this magical creature.

Just in that moment, Thranduil withdrew his finger, leaving him empty and was rewarded with an annoyed frown from Bard’s lips.

“Don’t you dare to complain?” he asked rhetorically, laughter audible in his voice.

Soon, more of the scented oil was poured on his back and Thranduil’s fingers slipped low, tracing the cleft of his arse teasingly slow before the elf’s fingers slipped between the rosy cheeks before he pushed inside again with a single movement.

Bard gasped and his heavy breathing only intensified when his lover’s finger curled inside him, hitting his prostate for mere seconds – it was enough to make him scream the Elvenking’s name, the sound muffled against the silken pillows; with each scream the elf’s teeth sank deep into the skin of his neck, between his shoulder blades, his free hand fisting strands of dark hair.

Not long after, Bard could not tell right from wrong, his mind spinning, his body developing a will of its own as he bucked against the finger that was buried deep inside him.

Every touch of the Elvenking increased his desire tenfold, the world fell apart around him with every stroke the elf was willing to give.

A second finger was added and Bard squirmed all the more upon the intrusion, his erection pressed against the silken sheets. He couldn’t tell when exactly the elf had removed the rings from his fingers, but they were gone by now.

Thranduil stilled his fingers’ movements momentary, allowing his lover to relax and adjust around them, his lips however were not idle, nibbling at the man’s ear-lobe and each caress was rewarded with a low moan.

With a smile against his ear, the Elvenking whispered hoarsely “How wonderful it feels to hear you scream, Bard of Laketown” and as soon as the words have left his lips a third, slick finger was pushed inside of him

“Gods.. too much.. way too much” incoherent whimpers tumbled from the man’s lips as he tossed his head from one side to the other, clenching the sheets between his fists. His breath came now in harsh and shorts pants, snapping for air. The world around him began to blur, feeling the thrilling mixture of pain and pleasure once again; Aye – it did hurt, but besides the pain there were the most wonderful shades of bliss, sparks of need and desire that soon would erase the discomfort, wouldn’t they? And hadn’t the elf had decided to ignore his whims and whines?

With closed eyes he concentrated on his breathing, forcing his body to relax around his lover’s fingers, yielding to the elf’s touch.

“Good .. very good indeed” the Elvenking commented almost self-satisfied but gentle nonetheless, stroking over Bard’s entire back with his free hand, before he began to move his digits, brushing against the sweet spot every now and then, being rewarded by audible gasps and moans of pleasure.

“Turn around” Thranduil commanded in a hoarse whisper, when he judged his lover ready for him. His voice nothing more than pure sex and a predatory grin on his lips as he withdrew his fingers. “I want to see your face whilst I fuck you”

“I thought it is beyond your kingly dignity to do the work, haven’t you said so yourself?” Bard asked in amusement, still breathless and with flushed cheeks – but he turned around even before he had said the words to make the elf see his board smile. Thranduil seemed to be full of surprises that night, Bard thought to himself, observing the sparkling eyes of the elf.

“Apparently my mind has changed, Bard of Laketown. Believe it or not, sometimes I do not even have any dignity left.” The elf replied with a smirk before his expression turned into the smug look he frequently gave.

Bard highly doubted it – the elf never would be without any dignity, but he remained quiet on the matter, awaiting the Elvenking’s next movement with curiosity – it could be all or naught!

A shiver rushed down his spine and Bard still wondered about the various sides of Thranduil; it was fascinating just how many different faces the Elven Lord seemed to have, wearing them like a mask.

The mask the Elvenking had decided to wear today was certainly one of wickedness - with a single graceful and fluid movement, he crawled between Bard’s already parted legs and came to sit on his heels, his slender fingers resting on his lover’s thighs, the long pale hair brushing against the stubble skin. Slowly, he leaned in with half-lid eyes, tracing the tip of his tongue lightly over the head of Bard’s erection, encircling it between his parted lips for brief moments in a feathery touch. It was just enough to let the man’s breathe hitch in anticipation, long enough to taste the tiny droplets of pre-cum that already began to form.

 

~~

With a smile he withdrew his lips, crawling back on Bard’s heated body, his gaze slowly seeking the brown eyes of his lover, whispering in a thick voice “I want you, bowman”

Any answer that lay on his lips was swallowed by a breathtaking kiss, their hands roaming freely of the other’s aroused body, until no air was left in their lungs. Even before Bard could recover from the Elvenking’s assault, his legs were placed around Thranduil’s waist who obviously ran out of patience. It was a sight to behold and his jar gasped open upon the sheer image of ethereal beauty the elf displayed. His porcelain cheeks carried a distinct note of pink, the silken tresses already a slightly tangled mess but it were his eyes, filled with burning passion and longing that hold him captive, that took his breath away once more.

The silvery circlet that Thranduil still wore until now, flew carelessly onto the ground.

All Bard managed to do was to nod, speaking his consent to everything that would happen in silence. When skilled fingers began to lift his lower body, brushing against his cleft ever so lightly, Bard involuntary shivered in blissful anticipation and moved his body a few inches, aiding the elf to find what he thought.

A nod of approval displayed his gratitude and it was not long before he could feel the tip of Thranduil’s cock pressing against his stretched opening.

Slowly but steadily, the Elvenking pressed forward whilst a firm grip was bestowed on Bard’s hips. Within seconds, he was rewarded with a loud gasp that fell from Bard’s lips, that was soon followed by repeated moans and subtle whines as he sheathed his erection inch by inch.

It did not take long until the man threw his head from one side to the other, gripping the silken sheets in his fists, whimpering in what the elf assumed was pain. But the word to stop never came and he had to admit that he was eternally grateful; Aye – he would have stopped – he had promised it after all - but it would have taken a lot of self-control to do so.

The feeling of the clenching muscles around him as he pushed further inside was breathtakingly divine, making him gasp in anticipation.

Judging the tightness of his lover correctly, it must have been a long time since Bard’s last encounter of that sort, a fact that made Thranduil smile for a reason he couldn’t explain himself.

When his cock was completely buried in the tight heat he stilled his movements abruptly, giving his mortal lover time to adjust to the intrusion. Almost absentmindedly, one of his hands wandered affectionately over Bard’s chest, drawing useless patterns over the skin until the man’s breathe has steadied.

It was only then when that Thranduil began to move, slowly pushing in and out in almost gentle movements at first, but with the first audible moan of pleasure that left Bard’s lips the pace increased instantly, making both gasp for air. The relentless pounding of the Elvenking’s cock into him, hitting his sweet spot again and again was maddening and took Bard’s breath away.

But it was the entirety of the situation that made Bard tremble with sheer excitement.

The hard thrusts of the elf’s cock, his strong hands against his hips in combination with the Elvenking’s flushed face, displaying parted lips and unfocused eyes was breathtakingly arousing. Thranduil was beyond beautiful in his current state, Bard decided and allowed his hands to brush against the slender finger of the elf.

Before Bard even knew what was happening, the King weaved his fingers into Bard’s and brought their hands down on both sides of the man’s head, making him shift his position automatically that he came to lay atop of him, pinning the man down to the sheets. Never stilling the movements of his hips, he began to let his tongue wander along Bard’s throat, nibbling the sensitive with his teeth and lips until his own name danced through the air.

His words were nothing more than a hoarse breath, his voice heavy with arousal and need “How wonderfully tight you are” he commented.

Bard knew that Thranduil could be threateningly manipulative if he wanted to, but he had no words to describe the bewitching effect the elf’s cock had on him. He could barely contain himself anymore between the dual sensation of the Elvenking’s cock buried deep inside him and those hungry lips and hands roaming over his body, biting and scratching his skin until blood was drawn.

By now, his body was most likely covered with treacherous marks – but what did it matter? His skin was still bruised from the incidence with the accursed dragon, a few more marks would even go entirely unnoticed and his own hands were not gentle either, he had to admit.

His senses began to melt away along with his brain from the intoxicating way the elf had with him, of this exquisite combination of lips and tongue before the night was over he would go insane of that Bard was certain, even more as Thranduil’s cock now brushed against his sweet spot with every thrust.

Incoherent words tumbled out of his mouth, only interrupted by the beautiful moans of painful desire, breathless pants and the Elvenking’s own name on his lips – it was more than he could bear, feeling his own release draw near, his erection rubbing against the king’s stomach with every movement.

Bard wanted to kiss this exquisite creature when they came, swallowing the words when the King screamed his name and he the Elvenking’s in return.

“Kiss me … please” he breathed hoarsely, nearly begging for the elf to obey as he almost tumbled over the edge when Thranduil thrust hard into him again.

And Thranduil obliged, bending down to claim his lips possessively with closed eyes. The shift of the angle made his lover hit his prostate again and it was all that was needed to finally push him over the edge. Bard closed his eyes in bliss, screaming Thranduil’s name against the elf’s lips, digging his fingernails into the smooth skin of his back.

Seeing the imperious Elvenking’s face in pure bliss as he was coming undone, buried deep inside him with his name on his lips, how they rode the last waves of pleasure together was forever etched into his memory, Bard knew - no matter what happens on the day when Erebor would fall.

 

~~

It was not a second later that Thranduil collapsed with his full weight on top of him, panting heavily and gasping for air, his features entirely seated.

Bard could not tear his gaze away from the beautiful face of his lover, now in his sated and exhausted state Thranduil was even more beautiful, Bard thought – it almost felt as if he saw a glimpse of the Elvenking how he truly was.

Absentmindedly, Bard brushed a strand of blond hair out of Thranduil’s eyes, letting it run through his fingers over and over again, listening to the elf’s heavy breathing.

When the elf came back to his senses, realizing that Bard still played with his hair rather affectionately, a genuine smile crossed his lips and he kissed him lazily with closed eyes, cupping his face gently with both hands – before he finally rolled off him, coming to rest on his back.

The smile only intensified as he stretched lazily against the burgundy silks, letting his against the numerous pillows, not caring to cover up anything.

It was the gesture in Bard’s direction that made the man smile broadly in return.

Without another thought he drew close and lowered his head onto Thranduil’s strong shoulder just as the elf has suggested, inhaling the alluring scent of his lover after an incredible night as he made himself comfortable.

The Elvenking’s muscular chest was now glistering with tiny droplets of sweat that reflected the candle-light and Bard’s fingers nearly wandered automatically downwards, dancing over still hard nipples and firm muscles beneath the golden skin.

For long moments nothing else than their steady breathing broke the silence, both lost in their very own thoughts, entirely content with the almost loving contact.

“Why did you do that?” Thranduil asked almost absentmindedly, playing with a dark strand of Bard’s hair.

“Did what?” Bard inquired in return, shifting his head in a way that he could look into the elf’s eyes, furrowing his brows in puzzlement at the same time.

Thranduil spoke in riddles again.

“Well – Why did you go down on your knees before me?” the elf commented, his voice curious and his eyes sparkling

Bard had no idea why Thranduil came up with this all of a sudden, but he decided not to question the King’s way of mind right now. It was impossible to comprehend Thranduil’s thoughts at times, Bard had learned this a while ago.

“Because I wanted to” the man stated with a smile, propping himself up on his elbow and letting his index finger running the elf’s smooth chest up and down. Softly he added “Do you remember what you have said the day when we first meet in the ruins of Dale? ‘Burdened is the head that wears the crown’ have been your exact words and I recalled them the very moment. I cannot explain it, Thranduil. But I felt the desire to make you forget – at least for a short time”

The sincerity and genuine concern in Bard’s face took his breath sheer away. The Elvenking was at a loss – he might have expected various motives for Bard’s actions but this mentioned one was certainly not among them. Almost automatically, Thranduil set up in his bed, a little surprised that Bard copied his movements, coming to sit beside him cross-legged.

The change in Thranduil’s eyes nearly broke his heart, there was a sadness present that he had never seen before in the elf’s eyes, something that probably was never meant to be witnessed by him. Thranduil’s eyes seemed to lose focus all of a sudden, looking right through him as if he was not there anymore, as if the elf’s mind was somewhere far away.

If he looked closer though, it almost seemed as tears began to fill them slowly.

Instantly, Bard regretted every single word that he had said, although he could not remember that he had said something wrong or upsetting, it was the exact truth he had spoken and serious concern found its way into his mind.

After long moments of silence, the Elvenking finally seemed to regain at least a little bit of his composure and to Bard’s surprise Thranduil actually commented on his remark.

“Thank you … for everything” the Elvenking said in a trembling voice, his teary eyes staring right into his own “Believe it or not, Bard – but I have never wanted this crown all my life. I wished the crown had never come to me … I wished my father was still alive, .. how I sincerely wish that my son is alive and well…”

Utter compassion rushed through Bard as his mind processed the true meaning of Thranduil’s words and he realized that in this very moment absolutely nothing was left of the regal and icy demeanor that usually was present around Mirkwood’s King – the elf looked almost fragile as if he was made of porcelain, worried and vulnerable, not shielding any of his secrets and worries from him.

It was heart-breaking to see him like this and all Bard could do was to put his arms around the trembling elf in a gesture of comfort, holding him close against his body, in a futile attempt to sooth Thranduil’s upset mind.

A little surprised but relieved all the same, the Elvenking allowed the gesture and lowered his head slowly until it came to rest on Bard’s shoulder with a heavy sigh.

“Aye, he is and I think you know this already, Thranduil.” Bard said in a comforting voice, his hands stroking the silken head of the elf tenderly. “Legolas is a brave warrior and well-trained” he quickly added, remembering the prince’s brief appearance in Laketown.

It was as if he could feel Thranduil nod against his shoulder and involuntary Bard placed a kiss onto his golden head, holding him silently for long moments in his arms.

It was a different form of quiet they shared now, resting in each other’s arms like this - the silence lived and was beyond comforting – for each of them.

“When you hesistated .. you know when .. what did you think, Thranduil?” Bard asked softly, mumbling against Thranduil’s hair and broke the quiet.

The only answer he received for a while was silence.

Nothing good would come from an revelation now, Thranduil decided in silence and added aloud “When this is over, Bard of Laketown – will you pay myself a visit in my Halls?”

“Aye, this I will! But tell me, Thranduil – have you already forgotten the politics we have discussed before – err – this had happened?” he said in a laugh, pointing towards the ruffled sheets “our lands shall be connected in friendship when this is all over, you have said. And if I remember correctly you have already included an invitation to your Realm back than – don’t you remember your own words anymore, my dear elf?” Bard said teasingly with a smug smirk

“What was that?” Thranduil raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

“Nothing..” lied Bard, letting his eyes flutter close almost mockingly.

“Nothing?”

“Naa.. seriously nothing” said the man nonchalantly, but his word and giggles were swallowed as Thranduil claimed his lips all of a sudden, pushing him back into the silken sheets and pinning him down with his body.

There was not the slightest chance for Bard to escape the elf’s firm grip, but if he was honest to himself he did not even want to, being entirely comfortable in his ‘misery’.

After all, it was not the most unpleasant experience to lay in the bed of Mirkwood’s King, being kissed by this otherworldly creature after a heated night.

A night that already was becoming _very_ late, Bard was certain of despite having lost all sense of time between Thranduil’s sheets.

“It is late already..” Bard said apologetically in between a heated kiss when their lips parted for seconds to gasp for air.

In fact he was rather unwilling to stop what they were doing, starting it all over again.

“Aye..” Thranduil admitted, not less reluctantly before he claimed the bruised lips once more in a possessive manner, weaving his slender hands in Bard’s hair and reversing their positions that the man came to rest on top of him – at least for short moments, before Bard rolled off him and sprang to his feet in an instant, nude like the day he was born.

It was not polite and most likely it wasn’t appropriate either, but what chance did he have? Bard mused in silence. If he would only stay a moment longer, he would fall under the enchanted spell of the Elvenking all over again and he knew he would never leave at all this very night

He should possibly avert his eyes, but his gaze remained where it was – on the elf’s spacious bed with the manifested temptation lingering right before him in the form of Mirkwood’s glorious king, sprawled seductively against the silken sheets, his long hair pooling over the dark cushions, his facial expression entirely content.

“I think I will take my leave now.” Bard finally offered with an apologetic smile, beginning to collect his belongings that lay scattered on the floor. “It would not be wise nor sane to be seen here on the morrow, sneaking away like a thief before dawn”

“Indeed you should not.” Thranduil replied softly but regret was audible in his voice. Yet he was relieved that Bard did not make him say the words. Any other night at another place he might have given into the temptation to let his lover stay until the sun announced the new day.

But it was not supposed to happen on this day, before the stubborn dwarven prince would finally fall. “Good night, Bard of Laketown.” he said with a smile as he watched the man dress, treacherous scratches were visible over his entire back.

“Good night, Lord Thranduil” Bard replied with a bow. Unseen by the Elvenking a broad smirk danced across his lips, he still could not believe what just had happened.

Just in the moment as he reached the curtain that separated the King’s bedroom from the rest of his pavillion, he heard Thranduil’s voice once more.

“Bard?” the Elvenking asked, leaning now casually against the bedpost, a genuine smile spread across his lips. Slowly, he gestured with his index finger for Bard to come close again. “What about a proper good-bye?”

He was truly a sight to behold and Bard could not help but to stare with eyes wide open, soaking up the ethereal beauty of his lover. The dark burgundy sheets were draped in a manner that they revealed more than they hided and the facial expression of the Elvenking was entirely sated. It was nearly impossible to tear his gaze away.

“Aye, forgive me” Bard replied with the same genuine smile, wandering back to where the King rested.

And before he could think of anything, strong arms embraced him and he fell directly on top of the elf, who giggled in a very unkingly manner upon Bard’s lack of grace. It almost seemed as if Thranduil had planned it all along, but Bard decided he did not mind at all.

“Good night, mellon-nin” Thranduil whispered against his lover’s lips, before he kissed him lazily. It was actually the first time that the elf had spoken in his own alien tongue with him, Bard realized and the sound alone was pure seduction.

Secretly, he wished that he would have whispered something between the sheets during their frantic love-making.

“Rest well my king” Bard whispered back, brushing a strand of golden hair out of the Elvenking’s face. Never has he called Thranduil ‘my’ king before, but now it only seemed right.

“And have a most pleasant sleep” he added with a smile before he rose from the bed and turned around again, afraid that he would not be able to leave if he just stared a moment longer into those bewitching eyes.

“This I will most definitely have” the Elvenking mumbled sleepily as he rolled onto his side, watching Bard taking his final leave with drowsy eyes.

It was shortly after Bard has left his tent that his guards announced another visitor and the Elvenking frowned in annoyance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now we all know why those two eye-fucked each other after Gandalf showed up ;)
> 
> and as a lot of lovely people here and on tumblr asked for a Sequel to this fic
> 
> **[*Wasting the Dawn*](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3128546/chapters/6780248).**

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and sorry for any remaining mistakes .. english is not my mothertongue


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